


Milkshake

by penguinparity



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M, boys are stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-12
Updated: 2010-04-12
Packaged: 2017-11-26 18:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguinparity/pseuds/penguinparity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray's milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.  Damn right, it's better than yours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Milkshake

Ray is sulking up against the back tire of their Humvee when he hears Walt return. He's still annoyed at Brad's remark about acting more like their resident little psycho Whopper Jr. Enough that he's pointedly ignoring Brad's order and hasn't cleaned off his face from eating his milkshake earlier. Walt slumps down beside him but doesn't say anything.

Ray shoves his knee up against Walt's thigh. Walt tilts his head back and stares expressionlessly at the sky, not moving away but not moving into the contact either. Ray shifts his weapon so it's resting between his splayed thighs and his hand sits on his own thigh centimeters from Walt's.

Walt doesn't move, just continues to stare at the gray Shamal-tinged sky. Ray can hear the sounds of their temporary camp all around them, Marines yelling at each other, tussling, and bitching. Brad has fucked off to who knows where and Trombley is asleep in the Humvee again.

It feels like years later when Walt's hand slips up to his knee, brushing Ray's. Ray can't help but grin.

"That's right, I knew you couldn't resist. My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard." Ray smiles and glances over at Walt. Walt's still staring at the sky, hasn't said more than a dozen words since the roadblock, but for the first time in days his gaze is focused.

"Goddamnit, Ray, I thought I told you to clean that shit off your fucking face," Brad bellows when he rounds the corner and spots them. Ray scrambles up with a glare. He tromps around the car as noisily as possible, slamming his door open to find something to wipe his face off with.

When Ray turns around he finds Brad leaning over the open door, staring at him speculatively.

"Did your little whiskey-tango mating call work, Person?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sir." Ray jerks the door out from under Brad's arm and slams it shut.

"Well, you must have done something right, Hasser nearly cracked a smile after you got up. So keep it up," Brad says. He claps Ray on the shoulder and walks off, leaving Ray to stare after him speechless.


End file.
